So a while back I got into this intense #poetparty discussion on Twitter...well, two intense #poetparty discussions. To be completely honest, I'm one of those people who will try to offer differing opinions to further disucssion. It makes life more interesting. But in these two cases I happened to believe very strongly in my opinionated opinions--about confessional poetry and "prose poems."
I've already written a post about confessional poetry ("Confessional Rant" http://lauraplusthevoices.blogspot.com/2011/02/confessional-rant.html ) explaining why I distrust it so much. As for prose poems, I generally dislike them...with a few exceptions. Well, two, to be exact. On the other hand, I love microfiction and short short stories. Needless to say, the #poetparty's were rather spirited.
However, in the past week I have done three things I never thought I would do. One: I wrote a purely confessional poem. Two: It was a prose poem. Three: I read it out loud. ARGH. *eats words* And to make it all worse, I actually liked the poem. It was good, or at least decent. Horrendously uncomfortable to share with my poetry class, of course, and I still refuse to actually like the concept of "prose poetry." But the class I'm in now has made me experiment with writing in ways I know I wouldn't have otherwise. And I appreciate that.
In other news, I visited some D.C. art galleries, ate a gigantic pulled buffalo sandwich, gave up YouTube for Lent, and returned to Twitter after a week-long hiatus. I wasn't in time to catch a new #poetparty, though--Sundays 8-9 on Twitter, if you're interested.
I've already written a post about confessional poetry ("Confessional Rant" http://lauraplusthevoices.blogspot.com/2011/02/confessional-rant.html ) explaining why I distrust it so much. As for prose poems, I generally dislike them...with a few exceptions. Well, two, to be exact. On the other hand, I love microfiction and short short stories. Needless to say, the #poetparty's were rather spirited.
However, in the past week I have done three things I never thought I would do. One: I wrote a purely confessional poem. Two: It was a prose poem. Three: I read it out loud. ARGH. *eats words* And to make it all worse, I actually liked the poem. It was good, or at least decent. Horrendously uncomfortable to share with my poetry class, of course, and I still refuse to actually like the concept of "prose poetry." But the class I'm in now has made me experiment with writing in ways I know I wouldn't have otherwise. And I appreciate that.
In other news, I visited some D.C. art galleries, ate a gigantic pulled buffalo sandwich, gave up YouTube for Lent, and returned to Twitter after a week-long hiatus. I wasn't in time to catch a new #poetparty, though--Sundays 8-9 on Twitter, if you're interested.
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